The Sunday Games
by whoissalmon
Summary: Molly is preparing brunch with Hermione's help when sibling tensions over quidditch go too far.


This story was written an published for Assignment 11 of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments).

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Molly Weasley's opinion of herself usually fell into one of seven categories. Her children inherited them from her individually, with the exception of the twins who shared two between themselves. She sometimes felt as determined as a curse-breaker, as formidable as a dragon tamer, as rigid as a bureaucrat, as innovative as an entrepreneur, as mischievous as a prankster, as loyal as a keeper, and as unstoppable as a talented flyer.

But since Victory Day, her family's losses and gains have accompanied some newly emerging mental states. As she prepared Sunday brunch and heard the number of voices slowly growing with arrivals, she felt decidedly analytical. She caught sight of a thick ponytail of golden brown hair whip past the stairs while she set the knives to slice tomatoes and chop potatoes, her gaze fixed on the middle distance. With that begun, and the rest of the ingredients prepared for the hash, she turned and leaned back on the counter space not far from the cutting board.

Much like she took stock of the brunch dishes she made weekly, with some seasonal substitutions, she used this moment to take stock of her children. Bill and Fleur—happy though exhausted with their young Victoire; Charlie—off somewhere, which was a good thing, for having him home in recent history meant things had gotten dreadfully serious; Percy—learning to relax through his relationship with Penelope, who Molly felt was doing a wonderful job of aiding him in restoring his relationships with his father and siblings. The list became troubling when she came upon George. As the older twin, Fred's name always followed Percy's in her head, and it took a while to become accustomed to his short and permanent status. Historically, the twins occupied much more of her mental power than their elder siblings, not only because of their resemblance to her cherished brothers, to whom she attempted to compare and anticipate her sons' futures, but also because they were perfect pains in the arse. Whatever simplification came from her fourth son's tragic end was countered by the tragedy of her fifth's enduring hollowness.

Months ago she met this preoccupation in her accounting with pangs of emotions, including pity for the pain her son must be experiencing, old grief from losing her own brothers, and the maternal instinct to help him through his intense and unprecedented vulnerability. This morning she detected a new development in her thoughts. Turning back to the counter as she heard the ceasing motion of the knives, she resolved that regarding George she needed something more—she needed a plan.

'Would anyone mind giving me a hand?' she hollered while she slid the prepared produce off the cutting board. 'Ginny? George?' She called for the younger family children, knowing that Bill and Percy would be busy entertaining their partners, and hoping that the others hadn't yet begun their pre-brunch quidditch ritual.

She heard a set of gentle footsteps approach from the family room, 'Ginny, dear, oh!—Hermione, lovely. Would you care to learn a bit more than how I put the finishing touches on brunch?'

'Well, Mrs. Weasley, I am happy to help you, but I'm afraid I'm a bit more comfortable around a camp kitchen than a proper one like this.'

'Not to worry, dear, an eager learner like yourself will feel confident in no time. Tell me again, have you learned many household spells?'

Molly saw Hermione quirk her brow and gently place her hand under her chin in thought. Molly surmised that she was counting as many household spells which she could think of. In truth, Molly wasn't worried: she merely wanted some company. Ginny wasn't far from mastering the majority of the regular dishes—hash, black pudding, scones, bacon, and eggs. Somehow the beans gave her trouble, but Molly knew after she struggled with them again last week that Ginny might remain scarce if her mother requested assistance today. So it was somewhat exciting that she had the opportunity to entertain her Muggle-born honorary-daughter with a somewhat novel experience.

'I feel like I can only work spells which I needed for tidying my dormitory and the tent.' She shifted her hand from her chin to her temple, gently massaging while the other rested on her hip.

'I know I wanted to try everyone I could find in years one and two, but so much of that stuff was done for use by house elves at Hogwarts. Anyway, there's bound to be a long list somewhere in my mind just waiting to be remembered!' She finished with a bright look on her face which Molly warmly returned. Of her brood, only the twins looked so determined and thoughtful at a request for help from their mother; of course, their goal differed fundamentally from Hermione's intention.

'Let's get to work, then—first we need to get the scones underway. Why don't you go over to the cupboard and choose what you'd like to put in them?' Molly inquired, gesturing with her wand to a narrow door leading to a pantry beneath the stairs. By the time Hermione began stepping that way, Molly had already opened it and summoned an assortment of confections and dried fruits from their places among the well-stocked shelves.

'How does that charm work?' She queried while her eyes scanned the containers floating in the air before her. Her eyes passed over raisins, and other dried fruits like cherries, ginger, mango slices, cranberries, and coconut flakes.

'Well the first things about kitchen magic, is that it's not very incantation-heavy. Instead it's quite intention-dependent. Much like the struggles students have with Summoning and Patronus charms, without the right intention you just won't get the right outcome. When I was a girl I learned the basics by putting ingredients away for my mother—why don't you try to put back the unneeded ingredients after you've chosen?'

By then Hermione had collected dried cranberries and white chocolate chips from mid-air. 'And what kind of wand movement am I supposed to use for a charm that has no incantation?' she skeptically asked while setting her choices on the kitchen table.

'Well, really I suppose it's whatever helps make the intention seem real to you. Best start off with something that resembles how it would feel to put things back without magic.'

Hermione returned to her spot in front of the door and narrowed her eyes at the levitated objects. She removed her wand from its holster and straightened her posture while taking a deep, anxious breath. She concentrated on how she physically might feel carefully putting away every item in the densely stocked space, and channeled that hypothetical effort into a simple parabolic motion with her wand. She hoped that gesture would imitate the arc her hand might take to put an item on the shelf./

A moment later the jars and containers gently floated to the recesses of the cupboard. Hermione began to grin to herself when the jar of coconut flakes began to wobble. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a quick breath when it fell suddenly towards the hard, smooth stone floor. At the last moment it suddenly jerked up in the air and out of the pantry, and Hermione turned quickly enough to see it land in an outstretched hand.

'Teaching Granger how to navigate a kitchen?' George directed to his mother, his head turned toward her as she stood facing him, her back to the window above the sink. 'She'll need it with a _keeper_ like Ron depending on her,' he continued blandly.

'What makes you think that's why I'm here? Your mother called for help and everyone else—including you—were off playing quidditch with that very keeper!' Hermione retorted.

'Better not get distracted from your lesson, Miss Granger, or else you'll be too far behind when its time to thanklessly deliver his food.'

'George, thank you for your twisted sympathy with the toils of kitchen labour. Now, did you need something, or were you coming to help?' Molly took back her son's attention before something escalated between the former Prefect and the top troublemaker.

'Yeah, just wondering if you have something around here appropriate for removing a head from an arse…'

'Does this have something to do with why you're not playing quidditch with the others?'

'Well now that Charlie is gone, we have an odd number for each team. That leaves me and Lee against Ron, Harry and Ginny, and you can imagine who's putting up a fight against devising a two-on-two configuration. So I've removed myself to regain sanity, and look for a solution.'

'Did he say something he shouldn't have?' Molly prodded.

She noticed her son look down to the space at his right, before taking in a slow breath and replying that Ron said nothing out of character. She saw Hermione eyeing the coconut flakes that remained in George's left hand, where he either absently or anxiously fiddled with the coconut flakes.

Molly held her breath in anticipation for what might come next. While she and the rest of the family knew that Ron meant no harm in his behaviour, that his impulsive and defensive instincts flared in competitive environments, recently his reactions left George, who no longer had his clever sidekick available for backup, emotionally discarded. Molly had begun to notice recently that George's disposition following any such incidence turned bland or acerbic, either aggressively or desperately relying on sarcasm to communicate his frustration. While Molly was relieved to find his humour somewhat in tact, she hoped for the return of his spirits to the point where humour benefitted everyone and not just his short-term emotional release. Given the antagonism between the twins and Ron in their youth, Molly somewhat wondered if George's bitter sarcasm might have become more substantial with the tragic effect of current events on his demeanour.

George hesitantly made eye contact with his mother when they heard Harry's urgent voice coming through the window. Everyone's eyes snapped to see who approached the house, just glimpsing as Ron aggressively stomped toward the door, a snarl set on his face and Harry pleading him not to enter the house.

Molly turned to lock eyes with George, then sent all the utensils on the table and countertops safely away into drawers. Just then the front door swung open and Ron stepped through, coming to his full height with a broom in one hand and his wand in the other, his quidditch cloak swinging menacingly around him.

'Now what is going on here—' Molly began, when suddenly her wand wrenched from her hand and to the floor near Ron's feet.

'Ronald Weasley! What is the meaning of this!'

'He thinks his pain is all that deserves attention now. But the rest of us want to let go of our grief and enjoy a bloody simple game on broomsticks!' he bellowed. 'Get your head back together you pathetic dependent! _Expelliarmus_!'

George reflected the spell, its force ricocheting into the window, shattering it. Hermione startled at the harsh bursting of glass from its frame and onto the sink's metal basin. Both redheads looked for a moment at her, and she looked to Ron and began to gently speak his name when a empop/em interrupted her, coming from where George just stood.

'Ickle Ronnie, letting something brilliant ruin his fun,' George's taunting came from just outside. 'When will you learn not to take things so personally?'

'Oh that's bloody realistic coming from you! Without Fred you act like everything hurts you at least twice as much as everyone else!' Ron responded as he pushed his way back outside, Harry and Molly following just behind. A short ways down the underused road the heads of Luna, Lee, Percy and Penelope materialised, casually approaching the house well behind Ron and Harry. Ginny was with them, too, but began running towards the house at the combustive scene before her.

George scoffed at Ron, 'Sure you can tell the difference between an act and real life? You know those delusional horcruxes are gone, right?'

'Why don't I show you how to finish one off? I'll start with you!'

Ron leapt on his broom and advanced toward George, who popped a few feet away, reappearing just next to Harry who still held his Firebolt. Ron's broom all but screeched to a halt just as he heard George's voice behind him: 'Harry, mind if I borrow that?'

Harry, slack-jawed at the altercation, absently loosened his grip on the broom and George took the opportunity, grabbing the broom and running a few steps before mounting the broom.

The brothers quickly ascended into the sky, where high above the house they squared off opposite each other. They hurled spells all around, the colours of the rainbow issuing from George's wand while fewer but harsher red-tones emitted from Ron's. It wasn't long before Molly saw a spell knock into the carefully balanced upper rooms of the Burrow, at which point she launched into action.

She ran back into the kitchen, picking up her wand from where it rolled near the door of a cabinet. She straightened to see Hermione still standing in the kitchen, who had moved from the pantry to get a better view of the brief interaction outside

'Hermione, would you like to help manage this disaster?'

She only nodded her agreement, ready to receive Molly's instruction.

'What's going on, Molly?' Arthur called from the other room.

'Just impending household collapse, thanks to our reckless sons!' she replied over her shoulder, beckoning Hermione to follow her through the doorway. 'Ginny, help please?' She, too joined the women as they hastened to the garden, frequently looking overhead to keep track of what was happening.

They could hear Ron taunting George about losing his ear while flying during the Battle of the Seven Potters, promising to make the job symmetrical. Molly wasn't sure of the true severity of the situation, but with things already at duelling-status, she worried about how much further the boys might take things—especially with Ron making such cutting remarks.

She resolved that neither would stand down willingly, so they'd have to be forced to the ground. However with the stray spells she couldn't risk the others trying to go into the air—too many moving objects. Therefore she tasked Hermione and Ginny to cover one side of the house while she moved to the other, asking Lee to help her in order to stop him from flying into the fray.

After a few minutes of flying and spellcasting, the boys appeared to be losing control. They had completely abandoned their taunting jibes and exclusively darted around, shooting jinxes and hexes through the air. A wind vane and roof tiles fell from the house, some siding splintering as the house absorbed the majority of the spells. Other hexes flew off into the trees, from which many birds had already taken off and whose branches were smoking in places.

Below, Molly's team gently levitated or disintegrated the objects flying towards the ground. Ginny had just blasted a tile into dust when the sky lit up above, a spell colliding spectacularly with the lightning rod Arthur had installed after Hermione shared some muggle perspectives on weather-proofing the home following a strong thunderstorm in June. The light perfectly illuminated the positions of the two fliers to those on the ground, and shocked them to a stop.

'NOW!' Molly shrieked. A moment later, two red beams shot through the air towards their targets, the cry of ' _Immobilis_ ' still on Ginny and Lee's lips. Hermione and Molly stood ready to see the slipping forms of George and Ron, preparing to use whatever means necessary to get them safely to the ground.

Hermione sent off a quick emArresto Momentum/em and to slow the fall of George's stiffened figure to the ground. Harry and Ginny cast summoning charms to make sure the brooms didn't fly off to get irreparably damaged.

With both of her sons out of the air, Molly employed Harry and Percy to transport Ron to his room, while Ginny, Hermione and Lee moved George to his flat. With them separated and sedated for the moment, and the others returning to the Burrow to clean up after them, Molly resumed her brunch preparations. This time with Ginny and Hermione's help in the kitchen and the rest cleaning or setting tables outside, Molly resolved that it was time she figure out how to balance the family's two wishes: for things to go back to how things were before the war, and yet to move beyond what had happened. Either that, or she needed to make sure there was always an even number of quidditch players at her home on Sundays.


End file.
